


Of Metaphysics and Mochas

by pebbledashwall



Series: Paris holds the key to your heart [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Courf has a cold bless him, Courf-centric, Fluff, Illnesses, M/M, Paris (City), Texting, except not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-25
Updated: 2015-08-25
Packaged: 2018-04-17 05:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pebbledashwall/pseuds/pebbledashwall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some realisations of love come gradually, like it was always there and was just gently uncovered. Others hit you like a fucking train.</p><p>How Courfeyrac realises he's in love with Combeferre fits into the latter category.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Metaphysics and Mochas

Some realisations of love come gradually, like it was always there and was just gently uncovered. Others hit you like a fucking train.

How Courfeyrac realises he's in love with Combeferre fits into the latter category.

It's a cold November morning and Courf's sitting in the Musain, the cafe next door to his and Marius' building, shivering at the draught through the open door as he sips on a blisteringly hot coconut and pistachio mocha. He's just received a text from said Combeferre:

**[09:37] Have you got your heating on? In your apartment?**

Courf sighs dramatically and replies quickly:

_[09:37] no i thought id put it on in the tuileries insted itd b much more useful there_

**[09:38] Don't be sardonic Courf; it doesn't suit you.**

**[09:38] Who rattled your cage?**

_[09:38] fckn stupd cold and fckn stpid weather and fckn prof legrange with a paper due this aft that was set last wek when he new ful wel i wouldnt b ther as i told him i had 2 go 2 a family reonion_

Courfeyrac groans and puts down his phone, frowning in frustration. It's not like he dislikes his metaphysics professor, it's just that the guy has had a prejudice against him since he turned up to his first class late with his face painted like a tiger, and apparently helping out at Gavroche's school all morning was not a valuable use of time. Yes, instilling creativity in young minds is not important at all.

His phone beeps. Combeferre.

**[09:38] Was this family reunion actually that surprise movie afternoon you launched on me last Monday?**

_[09:39] maybe..._

He can practically hear Ferre rolling his eyes.

_[09:39] look the guy h8s me nd not lik how enjy h8s r i needed a break_

**[09:39] A family reunion is a really lame excuse though, even for you.**

_[09:39] fck u 2_

Courf sips his coffee. Normally he has peppermint and pistachio, because alliteration is everything, but he's been mixing it up recently, trying to find a combination of flavours that Musichetta, the owner, his friend and usual barista during this shift, can't make taste good. This one is, as per, the most gorgeous thing ever to have honoured his mouth with it's presence. It's still trying to sear the skin off the roof of his mouth though, so he blows on it to cool it down.

**[09:40] What's the paper on?**

_[09:40] ugh idk hang on_

_[09:40] How far is Democritus and Leucippus’ principle of the atom still relevant today in light of modern scientific discovery?_

**[09:41] Oh. I see.**

_[09:41] yepp_

Courfeyrac...doesn't dislike physics? He just can't be interested in it. He knows that it's really cool, and it's nothing to be afraid of. He just doesn't like the idea that he's made of lots of infinitely small things, and that compared to the universe, he's an infinitely small thing. It's just wrong. So metaphysics is not his favourite part of the philosophy component of his course.

Combeferre, of course, fucking loves it, the nerd. Existential crises don't happen to the man; contrarily, he's told Courf that the thought of his own insignificance makes him feel oddly calm and content.

"For me, it means that however badly we fuck up, as individuals, as a species, whatever, the universe will continue to hurtle towards implosion, the stars will continue to burn out; our end game is already sealed, whatever we do or don't do makes no difference, so we may as well be happy and free and try to make others happy and free as well." And Courf has to admit it is a nice thought, but the whole loneliness of it all makes him feel funny. It makes him feel like he's not a real person, and he really doesn't like that.

He's pondering over this, wondering why it has such a big effect on him, staring at the coffee in his hands, when somebody plops into the seat in front of him, placing a plastic bag of stuff on the desk in front of him. Courf doesn't have to look up to know who it is.

"You look awful," Ferre compliments helpfully. Courf glares at him, and earns a light chuckle.

"Hi, Chetta," Ferre calls out. The girl nods, smiling mysteriously, and sets to work making his usual. When she delivers it to their little table, she sets down two cookies as well.

“On the house,” she says. Ferre looks at her questioningly. She smiles, secretly, like only she gets why she’s smiling, “He looks like he needs it,” she explains.

Ferre bites into his cookie immediately, but Courf is still sulking. “Come on eat up. Or I’ll eat yours for you.”

“I am not a child, Ferre,” his voice is nasally and rough; but he bites into the cookie anyway.

“Well, you’re acting like one,” Ferre replies, but he says it softly, and Courf knows he doesn’t really mean it.

“Okay then,” he sits up, “What’s in the bag?”

“Wasn’t that a meme you carried on about a few years ago?”

Courf suddenly has war flashbacks to 2013, and wishes he had worded the question differently.

“Doesn’t matter. Point stands.”

Ferre smiles and takes out an old essay from like, 4 years ago, that only Ferre would keep because he's the King of the Nerds, a book, with about 60 stick-it notes poking out of the pages, a scarf, and nasal spray. “This,” he holds up the scarf, a thick, dark blue woolly one, “is for you. Permanently, because of how your last one got mangled.” He wraps it round Courf’s neck, and Courf buries his face in it. It smells of Ferre, like oranges, and nutmeg, and home. Courf breathes it in deeply, then takes his face out immediately.

“ASHHH-WOOO,” he sneezes, loudly, startling the other patrons of the shop; Ferre doesn’t even flinch.

“And that,” Ferre starts, but Courf holds up his finger to tell him to pause.

“ASHHH-WOOO, ASHHH-WOOOO,” the sneezes decrease in volume. Courf sniffs, then motions for Ferre to continue.

“And that is why a brought this,” he holds up the nasal spray, “you’d better use it now.”

Courf does so, and immediately feels all the gunk in his nose give way. He grabs a napkin from the table and blows it, and the resulting snot is absolutely disgusting. They both wrinkle their noses at it.

However, he does feel much better now, “Thanks,” he smiles at Ferre, who returns it.

“And now to solve your third problem,” Ferre says, gesturing to the paper and the book. Courf looks at them more closely. The book is titled ‘The Science of Matter’, which sounds like a book only Ferre would buy, “I’ve book-marked a few pages where he literally talks abouts the legacy of Leucippus and Democritus’ work. You can read them, and I can help you understand them.” The paper is type-written, from November 2012, and is titled ‘A fundamental particle: Leucippus and Democritus’ impact on modern particle physics’. “I wrote it to enter to a physics essay competition in Première, but I missed the deadline. Obviously you can’t use the exact wording, but it may help.”

“And when were you planning that I’d do all this?”

“What other classes do you have today? Anything you really don’t want to miss?”

Courf shakes his head, “That’s the only one.”

“Well, then,” Ferre grins. He has a plan, and no matter what it is, Courf will follow him with it. Because that’s what they do. “I think that, as a doctor, I can declare that you are not well enough to go into classes today. Such a shame, as you were so looking forward to your metaphysics class this afternoon, one of your friends will just have to deliver the paper due today.”

“Not a doctor yet, Ferre,” Courf reprimands, but he’s smiling, and Ferre looks so excited about this. He’s such an adorable little puppy, no wonder Courf’s in love with him.

And whump, there it is; the realisation leaves Courf a little breathless, and he can’t really hear what Ferre is saying when he blurts out, “Ferre, I love you.”

Ferre goes very still, and Courf’s brain goes into panic mode. He wants to run, but his legs won’t move.

Then, Ferre smiles, “Of course you do Courf, and I love you. We’re best friends aren’t we?”

Courf slumps a little in his seat. Of course it’s not reciprocated, Ferre is his best friend, and, like a normal person, has the common sense not to go falling in love with best friends.

"Yeah, of course," he says, staring into his coffee. The cream has all melted in now, and it should be cool enough to drink without dying, but suddenly Courf doesn't really want it anymore.

Ferre also looks a little bit fraught. Well, not obviously, but he's cleaning his glasses, and that's been his 'let me escape now' tell for years.

"I'd, er, I'd better go," Ferre stands up. Courf is still staring at his coffee cup, like if he does it long enough it might start tapdancing across the table. "Chetta, could you put this in a to-go cup for me? Thanks."

As they chat quietly at the counter, Courf sighs, and picks up Ferre's paper. His handwriting hasn't changed since 2012, still just as crappy, with all the top parts of his f's in different sizes. Courf feels himself smiling, and gets another pang of that awful, awful hopelessness of being in love with someone when they don't love you back. "

Um, Courf?" Ferre says, hesitantly, like _he's_ done something wrong, not shit-for-brains over here. "I'm going to go. Text me when it's done, ok? So I can drop it off."

Courf nods, and then, realising a more elaborate reply may be necessary, says, "Thanks Ferre."

"No problem," Ferre smiles, and Courfeyrac is fucking _gone_. "We're best friends. I'd do most things for you."

There it is again. It's not any less painful. In fact it might be worse. This is shit. Courf is going to end up like Julia Roberts in My Best Friend's Wedding and that is the saddest thing ever. It's a great film, but nobody wants to be that Julia Roberts, everyone wants to be Pretty Woman Julia Roberts, who gets a happy ending. No, Courf is gonna bypass all the jealous sabotaging, he's going to rise above it.

"Yep, for life." The effect is sort of ruined by his voice cracking halfway through the second syllable, but whatever, Courf is Being A Better Person. He even throws in a classic 'cheeky grin' to prove to Ferre he's alright; Ferre looks slightly perturbed, but leaves looking mollified.

Courf lets out a huge breath with a whoosh. This is going to be fucking hard, and he's not talking about the paper.

;;;

He actually ends up getting 14 on that paper, and an actual congratulations from the professor. Ferre hugs him when he gets it back and Courf is So Screwed.

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolutely full of inaccuracies, which really irritate me, but there's only so much the internet can do. And there's somethings which I know are wrong, like Courfeyrac is studying Philosophy, Linguistics and Psychology as a combined degree, but this does not exist at any university in Paris, so I nicked the course list from Oxford Uni, because if they're going to have made up courses, they may as well have swanky made up courses. I know nothing about coffee; can you even have a pistachio and peppermint mocha? The metaphysics stuff mentioned here is so horrifyingly simplified, but, like Courfeyrac, I have real trouble getting my head round it so. And I need to learn better french swear words, so I can swop them out for the over use of fucking in this. Oh well.  
> (Ha. Overuse of fucking)


End file.
